July 20

Adelaide.

My food awesomeness care of the Bailetteri continues.

As I slowly woke up to the day, was offered a bowl of porridge with chia seeds, goji berries and toasted sunflower seeds. Fuck yes.

Lunch at a veggie cafe on Queen Street – chick pea salad, falafel, fried cauliflower ball thing, good coffee and two of my favourite guys in the world .(Jealous Bona? – About lunch with the G and the B, not the vegan feed) Fuck yes.

Amazing grainy, seedy, dark sourdough loaf baked in the kitchen at home as I sat computing at the dining table. PLUS a tiny tour sized one for me. Fuck yes.

Then how about some freshly made pasta with yummy chilli capery sauce and garlic bread. Fucking shit yes.

Toast a few tamari almonds along the way, why don’t you B?

So so so so good.

The night was cold, and I bargained with myself that if I could handle the chill of more amazing coconut ice cream, I could handle the chill of the outdoors – and it worked. Off to the tram and into town to the trusty Rhino Room where Lori Bell was headlining.

Chatting to Roy Phung in the bar after, he thought I looked agitated cos of the way I was stabbing the lime at the bottom of my glass with my straw. Keen observation what with being at a bar and all, while I am shrouded in Dry July. And although it is a habit of mine, to draw the last drops of juice from whatever citrus is flavouring my drink, it is also heightened and intensified as a stage gesture of Emma’s in the play I’m doing – which, as can happen, managed to wander it’s way off stage and into my life. Though I would’ve loved some vodka in my drink right then! I just really felt like one. Like, I mean, really.

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